


Drunk Texting Is(n't) Bad for Your Health

by sgtjbbhasmyheart (daffodil23)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Dialogue in the form of texts, Eventual Smut, F/M, Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings, POV Alternating, Strangers to Lovers, Weddings, secretive!Bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-03-26 17:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19010623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daffodil23/pseuds/sgtjbbhasmyheart
Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first venture into the MCU. Please be kind! This just popped into my head. I honestly don't know what I'm doing. 😐

Bucky heard his phone buzz as he was tugging a butter-soft tee over his head. He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand next to his bed as he worked his arms into their respective holes.

9:36

Steve was long in bed already, so the text most likely wasn’t from him. Sam was on a me me kick-- No, what did he call them? Memes!-- of a disgruntled cat which he swore reminded him of the super soldier. He wouldn’t be surprised if it were him. Or possibly Nat. She picked up the new issue of Guns & Ammo the other day and was sending him pictures of a Mossberg MC1sc 9mm she was drooling over.

Smoothing the body of the shirt over his torso, Bucky ambled over to his bed. He snatched up the phone from the navy blue comforter and flipped it over. To his amazement, the text wasn’t from Sam or Nat. Or even Steve.

 **(917) 460-5480** _work thing boring af. kinda tied one on. might be late meeting you tomorrow_

He blinked several times at the message, uncertain how to respond. It was a wrong number, right? Bucky hadn’t made plans with anyone for tomorrow that he could remember. Plus, everyone he knew had the same work thing. And it was rarely boring.

Definitely a wrong number.

He set the phone down near the clock, choosing to ignore the text. Hopefully, whoever this person was, figured out quickly they were texting the wrong number and moved on.

Bucky pulled back the covers before climbing into bed. His body melted into the mattress, muscles relaxing for the first time since breakfast. Training had been non-stop all day today. It felt good to just be, for once.

He grabbed the book he was reading off the nightstand and opened it to the spot he last left off. He cleared his mind, as best he could, and concentrated on the words on the page.

A few pages in, his phone vibrated alive again. Another text message.

 **(917) 460-5480** _sis dont be mad youd be drinking too if you had to sit thru one of these business dinners_

Bucky sighed. He had hoped his radio silence would have clued this person into their mistake. Wishful thinking. Before he could punch out a reply, another text came through.

 **(917) 460-5480** _timmons is droning on about this new client. kill me now_

He quickly typed out a reply:

 **(917) 308-3117** _I think you sent this to me by mistake._

Bucky watched the text indicator pulse as this unknown person worked out their response.

 **(917) 460-5480** _haha very funny sis_

Bucky huffed at this person’s unbelief, thumbs working on typing out his next message.

 **(917) 308-3117** _I’m not trying to be funny. I can’t be someone’s sister when I’m a man._

He set the phone down on the nightstand again, hoping this person finally took a hint. He opened his book back up to the current page, taking a deep breath.

The silence of the room was broken again by the loud thrumming of his phone skittering across the surface of the black wood veneer.

 **(917) 460-5480** _how does kevin feel about this so close to the wedding???_

 **(917)460-5480** _will you still need a wedding dress or will you just get a tux???_

 **(917) 460-5480** _am i still your maid of honor???_

Bucky chuckled at this girl (no, young woman) asking the essential questions.

 **(917) 308-3117** _Your sister did not get a sex change. Yes, she will still need a wedding dress. Yes, you are still her maid of honor. Like I said before, wrong number._

An almost immediate reply came through.

 **(917) 460-5480** _prove it_

Bucky grew slightly irritated at the insinuation. Why couldn’t she take his word for it? He exhaled loudly through his nose.

 **(917) 308-3117** _How?_

A few moments passed before the device juddered in the palm of his large hand.

 **(917) 460-5480** _selfie_

Bucky blanched at the request. He could feel the color drain from his face, only to immediately heat with a blush. A selfie? That is the last thing he wanted to do.

Although he’d been exonerated for his crimes as The Winter Soldier, he still knew about the dislike people felt about him as a person, in general. They couldn’t get past the brainwashing or other persona. God knows he still struggled with it.

He couldn’t go broadcasting his face through texts to a stranger. What if she was one of those people that didn’t understand he had no say in what he did or what happened to him under Hydra’s control?

What if he ignored the solicitation? He could do that. Maybe even turn off his phone.

She did seem the type to be very persistent until she got what she wanted.

True to form, another text rang through.

 **(917) 460-5480** _i will keep texting until i see your manly face_

One corner of his lips quirked higher. Yup, persistent.

He navigated to the camera app on his phone and switched it to selfie mode. He stared at the damp locks falling to his shoulders. His beard would require a trim soon, but it wasn’t scraggly. Luckily, he’d had the hindsight to shave his neckbeard in the shower earlier.

Was he considering this? Some girl says jump, and he asks how high?

He combed metal fingers through his hair, blowing out a breath.

 **(917) 460-5480** _im waiting_

Bucky growled at the text, running a hand over his face. “Okay, okay. Give me a second,” he said to his phone. He held it up to head height, half an arm’s length away.

_Click!_

He previewed the picture, assuring himself it didn’t reveal too much. It was, somehow, off-center, containing a bearded chin and half a smirked mouth, one nostril, and a half-lidded eye.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Bucky pulled the messaging app back up and then sent off the picture. He tossed the phone aside, not wanting to watch the taunting blinking dots as he waited for a reply.

The picture was barely recognizable, but someone like Steve or Nat could tell it was him. It would be okay. No one would know.

His phone vibrated violently near him on the bed. Bucky cautiously plucked the device up, debating whether he wanted to read her reply. What if it said, “Holy shit! You’re The Winter Soldier!”? The hope of this woman thinking he was just some regular guy knotted up his stomach. He didn’t know why he cared so much about whether this stranger thought he was The Soldier or not. He had no control over who believed the lies perpetrated as truth through the media. He could only wish for the best.

He blew out the breath he was holding in and eyed the phone’s screen.

 **(917) 460-5480** _is it fair to say men shouldnt be allowed to have long eyelashes??_

Bucky laughed and immediately thought of poor Steve.

**(917) 308-3117** _You should see my buddy’s. The girls swoon and complain at the same time._

He quickly added to the message thread:

 **(917) 308-3117** _Am I correct to assume you believe I’m a man and not your sister?_

The response was swift.

 **(917) 460-5480** _oh shit ur not my sister_

 **(917) 460-5480** _this isnt 9173083447?_

Bucky laughed again, the tension in his chest slowly unfurling.

 **(917) 308-3117** _Unfortunately for you-- no._

 **(917) 460-5480** _ugh im such an idiot sorry for the shit i said_

 **(917) 308-3117** _Don’t worry about it. I had a good laugh at your expense._

 **(917) 460-5480** _oh god now i feel like a bigger ass_

Bucky suddenly felt like backpedaling. He hadn’t meant for her to feel bad about her mistake. It was cute in a roundabout way.

 **(917) 308-3117** _Please don’t be embarrassed. It was the highlight of my night._

 **(917) 460-5480** _me forcing u to prove ur a man was the best part of ur night??_

Bucky thought for a moment. Was it the best part? The training sessions had become monotonous lately, even with the new agents. The team hadn’t been on any missions in a few weeks, so it was pretty accurate to say he was bored around the compound.

 **(917) 308-3117** _I suppose it was. Work’s been a little slow, and there’s only so much training you can do before it becomes tedious._

 **(917) 460-5480** _training? r u in the military? ooh, r u an athlete??_

A laugh bubbled up from his chest. It was comical to see her try to guess his profession. His selfie hadn’t announced who he was to her after all.

 **(917) 308-3117** _Something like that._

 **(917) 460-5480** _so mysterious! r u some assassin who needs to keep his identity secret? is that y ur selfie only showed a quarter of ur face??_

He paled at the implication. Maybe she did know and was yanking his chain. How did he block numbers again?

Another text came through from the mystery woman:

**(917) 460-5480** _not that i mind u have a luscious mouth_

Bucky guffawed at the comment as flames rose beneath the skin of his cheeks. He hadn’t remembered blushing this much in such a short amount of time in decades.

 **(917) 308-3117** _How much have you had to drink tonight, doll?_

 **(917) 460-5480** _doll?? what r u my grandpa??_

He chuckled again. God, he was old enough and then some.

 **(917) 460-5480** _enough to not want to shoot my brains out but not enough to know this dinner isnt a party_

 **(917) 308-3117** _Maybe you should get back to your dinner? I don’t want to get you into trouble._

He regretted the text the second he pressed send. Was he trying to get rid of her? No. Or was he looking out for her? This person he knew nothing about. She was more entertaining than the recurring nightmare he’d been having for the last week, that's for sure. He'd cling to this unknown to avoid slipping into that black abyss.

 **(917) 460-5480** _aww does the military-trained assassin athlete mchottie not want to talk with me anymore?? 🙁_

 **(917) 308-3117** _No!! I’m honestly concerned you’ll be reprimanded if you pay more attention to your phone than Timmons._

The last thing Bucky needed was to feel more guilt, especially if it was at the expense of someone’s livelihood. His shoulders were already heavy enough.

 **(917) 460-5480** _thats sweet but dont worry ur pretty little head over me timmons wouldnt last a day w/o me_

 **(917) 460-5480** _timmons may be the boss but i run that office_

He simpered at her swagger. He could only imagine what kind of office she worked in because, again, a total stranger. Did he want to get to know her more, or was this a one and done thing? Would she wake up tomorrow and want to continue the conversation or blow him off for the drunken mistake her first text had been?

Bucky stared at his phone for several more minutes, pondering precisely what he was doing and what his expectations of the night were. It’s not like he was going to meet her in person, right? Was he that delusional? He was an Avenger now. He didn’t get a social life. Not that he had one before but still.

He was startled from his reverie as the phone shook in his hand.

**(917) 460-5480** _did i scare you away??_

**(917) 308-3117** _No. Just thinking about tomorrow._

 **(917) 460-5480** _shit a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie must have a lot to prepare for mentally ill let u get ur rest_

He smiled at the gesture. If only she knew.

 **(917) 308-3117** _Send me a text when you get home. I want to make sure you arrived okay._

 **(917) 460-5480** _such a gentleman! i don’t want to wake u if ur asleep tho_

 **(917) 308-3117** _I doubt I’ll be asleep, but it’ll help ease my mind._

 **(917) 460-5480** _alright ill shoot a text ttfn_

 **(917) 308-3117** _ttfn?_

 **(917) 460-5480** _ta ta for now god u r a grandpa_

 **(917) 308-3117** _Yeah, yeah_

Bucky’s mouth split into, yet, another grin as he set his phone down once again on the nightstand. He picked up his discarded book and found his place on the page. After a few minutes of re-reading the same paragraph over and over again, he slipped the bookmark into the gutter of the book. His mind was too preoccupied with the thought of some random girl in the city at a boring work dinner. He realized he hadn’t stopped smiling since they temporarily said goodbye.

Maybe there was a good chance this conversation would carry into tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a crazy 2 weeks! Sorry for the late posting! Please forgive me!

You awoke with a start, feeling as if you were late for work or something important and forgot to set your alarm. Your heart beat an erratic tattoo against your ribcage. Scrambling for your cell phone, you blindly reached across the side table near your bed in a panic. Unplugging the phone, you brought the device to an ungodly closeness to your face. It was only 6:17. On Saturday.

Your pulse throbbed behind your eyeballs, and a strange stickiness coated the inside of your mouth. Did you drink that much last night?

How could you not? Timmons was a fair boss, and you enjoyed your job, but that dude loved the sound of his own voice.

The quarterly business dinners were mandatory for all employees, even for the P.A.s. Typically, they weren’t so bad, but last night, Timmons felt the need to toot his own horn for landing a massive contract with Stark Industries slash The Avengers. He went on and on about how great it was for the firm.

He was like a giant kid in a candy store with his ramblings. ‘We will be promoting the face of The Avengers and everything that goes with it,’ he spouted off like the firm was god’s gift to public relations.

You groaned at the reminder of last night’s presentation. The contract wasn’t even in effect yet, and you were sick of the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Timmons could be a real buzz kill.

Rolling to your back, you brought your phone up to tap the screen to read the emails you received overnight. On display was a text from 11:04 by someone named James. It read: “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

Your mind went back to last night again, trying to recall who this James was. He must be significant if you plugged his contact information into your phone already. Had you met someone last night?

Drawing a blank, you clicked on the text bubble to pull up the thread. Briefly scanning through the numerous texts, everything came rushing back. In an attempt to text your sister, Robyn, you mistakenly texted this mysterious, James.

You felt like an utter buffoon when you learned he wasn’t Robyn. You always did have a way with the cute boys. Probably why you were single. You groaned out loud as you read on.

 **You** _im_ _safely inside my apartment. Pretty sure no one followed me home_

 **James** _Did you triple check the lock on the front door?_

 **You** _yes dad yeesh_

 **James** _There are a lot of bad people out there. Just want to make sure you’re safe._

 **You** _sounds like you watch the news too much but its sweet of u to care_

 **James** _I know from experience._

 **You** _r u the bad guy or have u been the one mugged?_

 **James** _Let’s just say I have friends that have dealt with the bad things of the world._

 **You** _right i almost forgot ur a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie_

 **James** _Did you ever send your sister a text?_

 **You** _shit thanks for reminding me i have such a crazy story to tell her_

 **James** _Only good things, I hope._

 **You** _oh yeah all the good things an enigmatic yet handsome stranger cares more about my safety than any of my ex-boyfriends ever did._

 **James** _My ma raised me right._

 **You** _id say_

 **James** _I hate to cut this short, but I think you need your rest. Especially if you’re meeting your sister tomorrow._

 **You** _i dont want to agree but ur probably right_

 **You** _whats ur name btw?_

 **James** _My name? Why? Do you plan to continue texting me after tonight?_

 **You** _duh ur fun to talk to_

 **James** _Oh._

 **You** _or not its cool if u dont want to_

 **James** _It’s James._

 **You** _nice to meet u james im (y/n)_

 **James** _Nice to meet you as well._

 **You** _my sister just texted me back and were still meeting at 9 i should go :(_

 **You** _goodnite james_

 **James** _Goodnight, (Y/N)._

Oh. My. God. Had you seriously drunk-flirted with a stranger and offered to keep texting him? You had no shame with a few drinks in you.

You brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose and sighed loudly.

What did you know of this _James_? He had a New York area phone number. _Check_. He could have been a real dick about your mistake but wasn’t. Understanding. _Check_. He worried about you getting home safely in your inebriated state. Caring. _Check_. Not too forthcoming with the nine to five. Secretive. _Check_. His mouth looked so soft and plush, and his eyes were made to drown in. Gorgeous. _Check_.

A heat simmered beneath your skin as you recounted the short list you’d made. Were you lusting over someone you’d exchanged less than forty texts with? Had you somehow woken back up in high school?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you stared at the screen displaying the message thread. Were you really considering this? You nodded your head to answer your own question. Where was the harm in a little shameless flirting? If worse came to worst, you could always block him.

With your mind made up, you began typing into your phone, constructing an apology.

 **You** _Good morning! First off, I want to apologize for the way I behaved over text last night._

 **You** _Though, I do like to imbibe in the occasional drink or two, I am, by no means, a lush._

 **You** _Please take everything I said with a grain of salt. Apparently, I get loose-lipped and cheeky with free wine. 😐_

 **You** _Again, I’m sorry and understand if you wanted to cease our correspondence for my behavior._

You blew out a breath and tossed your phone aside. It was up to fate now and a stranger named James.

You laid in your bed for several minutes staring at the ceiling, contemplating whether to send a ‘haha just kidding’ text and what the weather would be like, so you could forego shaving your legs in the shower today.

Your phone chimed during the pondering of hair removal, indicating a new text. You knew it was James proclaiming you a freak and to forget his number, but secretly, you hoped it was Robyn canceling today.

Seizing the phone from your mattress top, your heart’s beat increased with each second you went without looking at the screen. Finding the courage, you flipped the device over to read the message.

 **James** _Quite the formal apology, Ms. Professor._

You smiled at the text. It didn’t tell you to pound sand or eat shit. No, it was teasing and in jest. You sighed in relief.

 **You** _Cease our correspondence too much?_

 **James** _No, no it was perfect if this was 1863, and you were breaking up with me via telegraph._

 **You** _Stop!_

 **James** _Exactly! ‘Never speak to me again!’ Stop. ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ Stop._

A belly laugh disrupted the hushed air of your bedroom. You quickly thumbed out a reply once you caught your breath.

 **You** _You’re incorrigible._

 **James** _I’m glad to see you are using proper capitalization and punctuation this morning._

 **You** _Ha!_

 **You** _When you are buzzed and/or tipsy, capitals and periods be damned. Like you’re so perfect when you’re drunk._

 **James** _We all have our flaws._

Was he implying he was a sloppy texter when drunk, too? You shrugged it off as him being cryptic again.

 **You** _What are you doing up so early on a Saturday? I didn’t wake you, did I?_

You were suddenly stricken with guilt. You should have waited for a more reasonable hour to send out rapid-fire apology texts. Not at 6:36 in the morning. You didn’t want last night’s behavior hanging over you, though. Better to clear the air now than later. You could always ask for forgiveness again if you had disturbed his sleep.

 **James** _I had just gotten back from my run when I saw your texts. I have training this morning._

 **You** _Oh, right. For your hush-hush, super top secret mission/quidditch game._

 **You** _You ever gonna tell me what you really do?_

 **James** _Maybe. Someday._

How far away was _someday_? Was he planning to text you until you both died or until he got bored? How did texting relationships even work?

 **You** _Or is it one of those situations where if you told me you’d have to kill me?_

**James 😈**

**You** _There you go again--being all mysterious._

 **James** _Keep ‘em guessing and coming back for more._

 **You** _Has that strategy worked well for you in the past?_

 **James** _Got you to text me again this morning, didn’t it?_

You scoffed at what he had suggested. He was correct, but your stubborn streak would deny everything.

 **You** _The only reason I texted you this morning was to apologize for acting like a drunken fool last night._

And to squash the curiosity burning in your veins. But, he didn’t need to know that.

 **James** _Oh._

The reply caused you to furrow your brow and your stomach to drop. You regretted not adding more levity to your last text. Of course, it wasn’t the only reason you were drawn to him.

 **You** _I appreciate that the selfie you sent wasn’t a dick pic. And you genuinely seemed to care about me getting home safely. Thank you._

 **You** _And maybe- a teeny, tiny bit- is honestly interested in getting to know you better._

You waited on pins and needles for his text, watching the pulsing ellipsis on your screen. Was he just humoring you?

 **James** _Hook. Line. Sinker._

Reading his response generated a flush from your jaw to your hairline. You growled in embarrassment. You fell for the oldest trick in the book. He baited you for a compassionate answer, and you delivered beautifully. Hook, line, and sinker, indeed.

 **You** _You’re an ass. I take everything back._

 **James** _Don’t be mad. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go, but you played into my trap wonderfully._

 **James** _If it makes you feel any better, all kidding aside, I want to get to know you better too._

 **James** _I fell asleep with a smile on my face last night and woke up with one this morning._

 **James** _Because of you, (Y/N)._

A flutter broke apart in your chest. You hadn’t time-traveled back to high school; no, this was junior high territory.

 **You** _You’re lucky you’re so damn charming, James._

 **James** _Doll, you have no idea._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 The subway ride into Manhattan usually gave you the chance to get a little reading in since it took nearly fifty minutes from Queens. Not today, though. You spent the entirety of the train ride texting back and forth with James. It was mundane stuff, but you were getting a grasp of who James was as a person.

 **You** _Favorite color?_

 **James** _Black. You?_

 **You** _Blue._

 **You** _Favorite ice cream flavor?_

 **James** _Chocolate. Yours?_

 **You** _Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia._

 **James** _I didn’t realize we were getting specific._

 **You** _We weren’t, but that’s my favorite._

 **You** _Favorite movie?_

 **James** _I like the classics- The Wizard of Oz, It’s A Wonderful Life, Frankenstein._

 **You** _I have too many to list, so don’t ask._

 **You** _Okay. Lightning round because I’m almost to my stop._

 **James** _Where are you going again?_

You paused your reply for a brief second, wondering if you should divulge your destination. You’d known James less than twenty-four hours; although, it felt like weeks after this morning. Where was the harm in telling him where you were meeting your sister? There were nearly nine million people in this city. There was no way you’d ever bump into each other.

 **You** _A bakery in the Upper East Side called Two Little Red Hens. Ever been?_

 **James** _Don’t think I have._

 **You** _Well, since you like chocolate, they have a fantastic cake called Brooklyn Blackout. Super rich but delicious._

 **James** _Sounds right up my alley._

 **You** _Cats or dogs?_

 **James** _I’m gone too much, so cats._

The answer piqued your interest. Maybe he _was_ an athlete. Wouldn’t it be practice and not training, though? Or he’s FBI or CIA.

 **You** _Socks on or off for sleeping?_

 **James** _Off._

 **You** _Silver or gold?_

 **James** _Silver._

 **You** _Morning, noon, or night?_

 **James** _Night._

 **You** _How do you take your coffee?_

 **James** _Room for sugar and creamer._

 **You** _Boxers or briefs?_

 **James** _Boxer briefs._

You laughed out loud, looking around the subway car to see if anyone was paying attention to you. Per usual, they weren’t.

 **You** _Touché._

As soon as the train stopped, you gathered your purse close to your body and made for the exit. You followed the crowd of fellow passengers through the turnstile and ascended the stairs onto street level.

The morning sunlight caressed your skin like a warm blanket. The humidity wasn’t too bad, yet, but the threat of afternoon thunderstorms still hung in the air.

Even with the fairly early hour, the sidewalk was stuffed with people, carrying to-go coffee cups or shopping bags. You fought for your little spot of real estate on the grimy concrete.

Stopping at a red traffic light, waiting to cross, you typed out another question for James.

 **You** _Pineapple on pizza--yay or nay?_

The light changed as you finished, and the throng of pedestrians around you guided you across the street. You spotted Robyn outside the bakery as your phone dinged with a new text alert.

“Wow, I’m surprised you made it on time,” Robyn said as you hugged hello.

You looked at the clock on your phone. 8:58. “You and me both, sister.” Glancing back at your phone’s screen, you giggled.

 **James** _What kind of monster puts pineapple on their pizza??_

“What’s so funny?” Robyn asked as you accompanied her through the bakery’s door.

With a grin on your face, you punched out a quick reply:

 **You** _Well, it was nice knowing you, James. It was a swell friendship while it lasted--a whole 11 ½ hours._

Robyn elbowed you softly in the ribs with a look on her face, seeking an explanation.

“Ow,” you grunted. “What?”

“You tell me. I half expected a zombie to walk through the doors today after your text last night. Not Suzie Sunshine.”

You both edged closer to the counter as the line in front of you dwindled.

 **James** _Say it ain’t so, doll! Pineapple on pizza? Really??_

You let out a low chortle as you skimmed the text. You glimpsed up at Robyn as you shuffled forward in line again. “Believe me, I’m pretty hungover,” you replied, shoving your phone in your back pocket. “It’s a funny story. I’ll tell you everything when we sit.”

Robyn stared at you wearily, still trying to figure out what had come over you. “Okay,” she conceded, stepping to the register to order.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Each of you supplied with an iced coffee and a peach ginger scone, you found an empty table by a window along 2nd Avenue and proceeded to tell Robyn about James.

When you stopped to catch your breath, remembering the whirlwind the last twelve hours had been, you peered at your sister for her reaction.

She stared at you like you’d grown a second head. She shook her head in disbelief. “(Y/N), what where you thinking?”

Your brow pinched in confusion. Was she actually scolding you? You crossed your arms over your chest. “I was thinking about how my big sister is always telling me to meet new people and how it’s time I thought about settling down.”

“Not like this it’s not,” she hissed. “ _This_ is how your body parts end up in someone’s freezer!”

You choked on the piece of scone you shoved in your mouth before she started ridiculing you. After coughing to clear your airway and taking a sip of your iced coffee, you leered at Robyn. “Oh, my god! Dramatic much? Have you been binge-watching Dateline again? Jesus Christ, Robyn, he’s harmless,” you countered.

“You think you’ll be so careful, but you’ll let one little detail slip, and he’ll find you,” Robyn said before taking a pull from her coffee.

“You mean, like, how I was meeting you at Two Little Red Hens at nine o’clock?”

Robyn’s mouth popped open in an O. “What the hell, (Y/N)?” she stage-whispered. “Are you trying to get yourself kidnapped and sold into sex trafficking?”

“Please,” you drew out in one long syllable. “He doesn’t know what I look like. How would he snatch me?”

“He could look you up on Facebook.”

“Without a last name?” You shook your head, no.

“What about a reverse search on your number?” Robyn asked, pushing the plate holding her scone away. “That’s a thing.”

“Perhaps, but it seems like a lot of effort for a mistake I made. It wasn’t like he was seeking me or anyone else out.”

Robyn huffed out a breath and folded her arms in exasperation. Always the protective big sister. You could tell you were breaking her down, though.

“C’ mon, Robbie. It’s all in innocent fun. I’m not saying I’m hoping he’ll turn out to be Mr. Right, but the banter is fun,” you remarked. “James is charming and witty and nice to talk to.”

Robyn shook her head once more, frowning. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

You reached across the table for her hand and squeezed gently. “Me too.” You smiled slyly, remembering last night’s dinner and Timmons gushing about The Avengers. “If not, I know how to get ahold of a couple of centenarians who know chivalry isn’t dead.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I made it on time this week!
> 
> This chapter isn't very heavy on the text dialogue, but it's a fun chapter between the team. Enjoy!

Bucky clutched his phone in his flesh hand as he made his way down a long hallway to the communal kitchen and eating area. A soft, crooked smile rested at his lips as he entered the space. Natasha and Sam were each sitting at opposite ends of the rectangular table separating the kitchen from the lounge, enjoying a late breakfast. Steve was at a kitchen counter fiddling with the Keurig machine. He pulled another mug from the cupboard when he saw Bucky approach. “Mornin’, Buck. Sleep well?”

Bucky’s grin broadened as he leaned his backside against the countertop. “I did actually. Thanks for asking,” he answered, looking to his phone at the incoming text.

**(Y/N)** _Would you rather have skin that changes color based on your emotions or tattoos appear all over your body depicting what you did the day before?_

He missed the way Sam and Nat looked at each other in suspicion at his answer to Steve. He was too busy pressing the keys on his touch-screen.

**Bucky** _The tattoos would be awkward, speaking from a male’s perspective, so I think color changing would be better. Not by much, though._

**Bucky** _Would you rather have edible spaghetti hair that regrows every night or sweat maple syrup?_

Bucky saw Steve slide the new mug, now filled with coffee, across the granite-top toward him from the corner of his eye. He glanced up quickly from the screen and nodded. “Thanks, buddy.” Steve answered with a smile.

“What, no grunted thanks or mumbled acknowledgment?” Natasha quipped, standing from her seat to place her plate in the dishwasher. 

“Yeah, man. You have been using way too many words lately. I miss the grumpy dude that would brood in the corner,” Sam added, crossing his arms at his chest. “Are we even sure this is the right Bucky?”

Bucky’s phone vibrated again.

**(Y/N)** _I love me some spaghetti! Can you imagine sweating sticky, gooey maple syrup during a humid New York summer?? Your clothes would be toast._

**(Y/N)** _Mmmm, french toast._

Bucky chuckled at the reply, drawing the attention of three sets of eyes.

Sam wasn’t wrong; he wasn’t the same Bucky.  
It had been five days since (Y/N)’s first drunken texts. Five days. He couldn’t believe so little time had passed. Somehow, (Y/N) had wiggled her way under his skin.

He had noticed after only a day or two; he was smiling more, less volatile. He felt lighter, happier. He wasn’t skulking about the compound like usual, trying to avoid the rest of the team. Some might go as far as to say he was friendlier than usual.

It felt good to have someone, a friend, learning about the _real_ James Buchanan Barnes, for once, without the threat of The Soldier clouding their perception of him.

“You’re freaking me out, man. Straight outta _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_ or some shit,” Sam declared, rising from his chair.

“Hold on, Sam,” Steve placated, lifting a hand to the advancing man. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation to Bucky’s good mood lately.”

Bucky set his jaw in frustration, the muscles ticking. He wasn’t a Pod Person. He was just _happy_ , for the first time in seventy-five years.

His phone went off again.

**(Y/N)** _Would you rather sneeze once every hour, on the hour or burp every time you saw an attractive girl?_

A wide smile split his mouth as he scanned the screen.

**Bucky** _Am I sneezing in my sleep or just when I’m awake?_

When Bucky brought his gaze back up to his teammates, he noticed Natasha’s own eyes flick down to his phone. The slightest smirk curved the corner of her lips.

“It’s curious,” she said, a perfect eyebrow inched higher to her hairline. “All the people you text are in this room, yet, you haven’t been able to pull yourself away from your phone.” Her eye contact never wavered from Bucky’s face. “Don’t ya think that’s odd, fellas?”

“Natalia,” Bucky warned, his voice gruff. He knew she was fishing.

Sam laughed boisterously. “Yeah, I noticed that the other day. It’s glued to your hip nowadays.”

“It could be anyone from the team, guys,” Steve reasoned. “I bet it’s Tony.”

Bucky became increasingly more agitated as the redhead slinked closer, passing his phone back and forth between his hands.   
Natasha shook her head in the negative. “Nuh-uh,” she said, leaning against the counter directly beside Bucky. A hair’s breadth of space separated their shoulders from one another. Tipping back, with her elbows propped against the hard surface, she kicked her legs out casually and crossed her feet at the ankle. “Those two have barely said two words to each other since the good Sergeant here was welcomed back into the fold. It’s _not_ Tony.”

“That still doesn’t prove anything,” Steve replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I bet it’s a girl,” Sam said in a sing-song voice. “But, where would Ice Man here meet a girl?”

Natasha smiled while looking at Sam as he stepped closer to the trio. “Let’s find out, shall we?” She nodded to Sam and without batting an eye, lunged at Bucky.

She tapped the underside of the hand holding the phone, causing the device to flip up into the air.

Though he hadn’t seen the attack coming, Bucky’s reflexes were cat-like, and he easily caught the phone in his opposite hand.

Unfortunately, Natasha was just as quick and knocked the phone from his hand again. She effortlessly swatted it out of the air and into her own hand. As Bucky clamored to retrieve the cell phone, she swung her arm behind her back and tossed it into the waiting hands of Sam.

By the look of Sam’s wide smile, Bucky knew he was having a field day, at his expense. He pounced on his teammate, grappling for possession of the device. He wasn’t sorry for elbowing the other man harder than he ever would if they were sparring each other. He needed his fucking phone back!

In the process of Bucky grabbing ahold of Sam’s wrist and twisting the same arm behind his body, Sam managed to flick the phone over his other shoulder. It clattered to the ground at Steve’s feet.

As everyone stared at the cell phone lying prone on the tile floor, Sam backed Bucky into the cabinets, trapping him with his body. “Let me go, Bird Brain!” Bucky huffed.

Steve bent to pick the phone up, holding it in his hand. Bucky could see the war playing within Steve’s blue eyes as he struggled against Sam. Steve was just as curious as the other two but didn’t want to betray his friend. 

Natasha quickly snatched the device from Steve and started thumbing at the screen.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Steve protested.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to put a passcode on your phone, Barnes?” Natasha tsked as she navigated to the messaging app.

Bucky knew the exact second she found what she was looking for because her eyes became comically wide. A feral, shit-eating grin crossed her mouth as she raised a brow again.

“Tell me about (Y/N).”

“What?” Steve questioned. “Lemme see.”

Bucky felt his cheeks go aflame as Natasha angled the screen so Steve could see the message thread. They burned hotter as Steve looked up with his own shit-eating smirk.

“Well, well…” Sam piped up. “If your faces are anything to go by, Vanilla Ice’s still got game.” Bucky twisted his arm back further in retaliation causing Sam to grunt in discomfort.

Bucky watched as Natasha’s thumb skimmed along the screen to delve deeper into past messages. Her thumb stopped as she read a passage; her green eyes rapidly followed the lines of text.

“I always kinda figured you’d be into someone that would call you out on your BS. She sounds fun,” Natasha said as she continued to scroll.

“No one’s into anyone. We’re just friends,” Bucky murmured.

Steve’s head shot up to stare at his best friend, sorrow painting his features. He edged away from Natasha. “Does she know who you are?” he asked.

Bucky shook his head no. “And she never will.”

“Aww, but you guys sound so cute together,” Natasha pouted. Bucky frowned at the insinuation. It couldn’t ever happen.

“There aren’t any rules saying we can’t date,” Natasha mentioned. “Hell, you know how many times I tried to set up this big lug?” She motioned to Steve with her thumb.

“That’s different,” Bucky said after a few moments. He eased up slightly on Sam’s arm.

“How so?”

Bucky rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, the blush starting again. “He’s Captain America, and well, I’m not. Not exactly everyone’s favorite.” He downcast his eyes to the floor.

“Buck, you know that’s not true,” Steve said woefully. “It’ll just take some time.”

“I know, Stevie. Until then, though, I’m still a pariah.”

The super soldier serum couldn’t have been given to a better person, but Bucky always felt like he would be trapped in Steve’s shadow, no matter the amount of good he did. He would still feel weak for what Hydra did to him, or not good enough to be labeled Captain America’s best friend.

Feeling the room take a huge turn toward somber, Natasha called out, “Holy shit, Barnes! You used Wilson’s toothbrush to clean your toilet?”

“What?!” all three male voices cried out.

Sam rushed forward, trying to see the proof for himself. “You’re a dead man!”

Freed from the weight of Sam’s body, Bucky leaped forward toward Natasha and Sam. Slamming into Sam’s back, he snaked an arm around the other man, reaching frantically for his phone. He was done with them spying on his non-existent personal life. 

Bucky smacked against Sam’s hands and arms, trying to dislodge the device.

“Stop!” Sam bellowed. “You’re hitting me like an eleven-year-old girl!”

“Gimme back my phone!” Bucky shouted.

Suddenly, the sound of ringing filled the small space of the kitchen. The scuffling stopped in an instant as everyone tried to figure out where the noise was coming from. Sam glimpsed down at his hands and jumped apart from Bucky as if he’d been burned. He looked horrified!

“Oh, shit!” Sam exclaimed, shoving the phone back at Bucky.

“What did you do?!” Bucky screeched when he realized the ringing was coming from his phone on speaker.

The sound ended abruptly, only to be replaced with the gentle tinkle of a woman’s voice.

“James?”

**Author's Note:**

> Writing is a semi-part time hobby. I will try my damnedest to post every Wednesday or Thursday. 
> 
> I love hearing from you! Comments/Love fuel my muse! Feed accordingly! 🥰


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